Bad Humours Can Really Ruin You're Day
by Helen Faulkner
Summary: Somethings wrong with Robin the others have to help him but can they do it in time. Minor injury, some blood mentioned but no real details.
1. Chapter 1

A mysterious pain causes problems in camp, without help one of the outlaws could die but the treatment could be more dangerous than the problem.

As always I do not own Robin, the merry men or any other characters – apart from the doctor, he and his butchered English are all mine!

I have tried to keep facts vaugly true for the period that Robin is set (1190's) but have used some poetic license when it comes down to medicine.

Hope you enjoy.

**Bad Humours Can Really Ruin Your Day.**

"You're not eating Robin? Tuck asked as he watched the leader of the outlaws look at the meal Much had just served and wrinkle his nose before putting it to one side.

"I'm not very hungry" the young man replied, he knew as well as anyone that as an outlaw he should eat whenever the chance arose, after all none of them knew when the next meal might be. An outbreak of disease among the rabbit population or a drought could see their natural food reserves dry up in less than a week and food that they stole from the sheriff was for the villagers, not for them. Robin had made that an unwritten rule when the gang had first formed, their mission was to protect and serve the innocent, the villagers were to be fed and clothed first before the outlaws could access any of the loot.

The holy man decided not to press the issue, however he was sure the Robin was not being quite honest about the reason for not eating. Something he had witnessed earlier had concerned him but in the short time he had lived with the disposed Lord of Locksley he like the others had learned not to question the 27 year old about anything personal. If Robin felt disposed to talk about himself he would, otherwise questions would answered by sarcasm and arrogance, emotions that Robin used to hide his true feelings.

Later that evening Robin leaned against a tree and looked towards the city of Nottingham thinking; his was a never-ending task, there were always people who needed food or water or clothing; items that the sheriff should provide but Vaysey was greedy. He collected taxes under the guise of sending funds to King Richard in the Holy lands, coming up with ever more ridiculous charges to get his hands on the people money; last week he had ordered a tax on anyone found eating during Mass meaning that as soon as the parishioners accepted communion they would be charged.

Even before he had returned to this once great city Robin had known something was amiss, the so called war funds had practically dried up, and his men had been forced to mend weapons that were beyond repair with whatever they could find in the unforgiving land surrounding camp. Bows and swords taken from the enemy in death had become more than just trophies, they were needed for defence once English weapons became too brittle or blunt and yet the new sheriff lived in the castle in great comfort with food and wine regularly going to waste while the people starved. Soldiers would throw a sword away if it had the slightest blemish without even trying to get it fixed because the sheriff would provide new ones without so much as a bat of the eyelid.

Robin himself knew of three rooms in the castles dedicated to the storage of treasure, now if only he and his men could find a way to get into those rooms and remove the gold and silver without being caught… the outlaw gasped suddenly and clutched at his side as a searing pain seemed to rip his very soul in two. He growled angrily and tried to ignore the discomfort, firmly massaging the area until the pain once again disappeared. He needed to find out what this was pronto.

He'd been having the pains for a couple of days now; always in the same place and although he had checked repeatedly for signs of injury – perhaps a scratch from a stray arrow or a graze from a fall – he could find no reason for his discomfort. He'd decided tonight that maybe it was something he had eaten, after all it wouldn't be the first time he had suffered a bout of food poisoning after eating Much's cooking; not that he would ever tell his loyal ex-manservant. But avoiding food had done little to relieve the problem, now his whole abdomen ached from hunger and he wasn't sure where that ended and the other thing began.


	2. Chapter 2

That night as the outlaws settled in their respective bunks and rested waiting for sleep to come; Robin threw the covers off violently and collapsed back with a groan. The last time he'd been this hot he'd been living in a tent in the desert.

"Everything ok Robin?" John asked quickly, he too had noticed his friend behaving strangely recently and despite generally being a man of few words he felt now that he had to comment.

"Yeah. Is anyone else hot?" the young man asked, surely it wasn't just him.

"No. I think it's cold" Allan mumbled from beneath his own blanket. A murmur from the others seemed to show unanimous agreement between the other outlaws.

"Are you sick Robin?" Much asked quickly, concern reflected in his tone. He and Robin were close, they had known each other a long time and Much felt a sort of duty towards his former master despite being granted freedom from service some 3 years ago.

"I don't feel sick! Just hot!" Robin replied. His voice was even, calm but his mind raced. First a pain from a none-existent wound and now a fever. What was wrong with him?

Once convinced that their leader was alright, the other outlaws slept, Robin would tell them if something was wrong.

The next morning Robin woke early and crept quietly from camp to the cottage of John Williamson, the local doctor for the village of Locksley. If there was something wrong with him, John would know how to fix it, he'd been curing people of illness for as long as the young lord could remember.

"So you're getting pains from an injury you can't see?" John spoke thoughtfully as Robin sat before him and told him the problem.

"Yes and last night, I was really hot and could feel myself sweating despite the cool season" the young man added.

"I see. Well young Robin, its sounds to me like your humours are unbalanced." John spoke thoughtfully.

"My humours?" The outlaw asked, he had rarely been to a doctor since his childhood, always relying on Much to treat his battle wounds. He wasn't sure he understood about humours.

"Aye. Body contains four humours. Sometimes they goes out of balance so we physicians need to re-balance them."

"What does that involve?"

"Well now, you say you've been sweating and vomiting recently. I would say you have an abundance of the red humours which are causing you the discomfort that you describe. Lucky for you I have just the thing to cure that. I'll put a couple of leaches on your stomach and when they drop off you will be cured, how does that sound" John smiled gently, pleased to be of service to a man of noble birth. Even if most people now considered Robin no more than a common criminal, he could boast that he had treated an Earl; there was no need to be specific after all.

"Leeches?" Robin had never heard of such things before.

"A new idea praised by our friends in Rome. Leeches are small worm like creatures that remove excess red humours without the discomfort associated with the knife. I have used them for several years with great success." John quickly quelled his patients' fears as he had done so with so many others. The thought of allowing a creature to consume ones internal fluids was naturally an alien concept and yet removal of excess humours was the only way to treat illness and these small worms undertook the hard part of the job willingly and without the mess of more well know practices. John had quickly made a good name for himself in these parts for his quick and painless treatment, all thanks to a few worms from Italy.

"It appears, since I can find no other reason for what I have been feeling and I cannot fight for my country when any minute I might find myself crippled with pain; that I am at your mercy." Robin trusted the man before him, he had no choice and he knew that many people praised this man as a healer.

The physician bade his patient to lie down flat and carefully lifted his shirt; he scooped three or four small black objects from a jar in the corner and held them in a cup while he pressed Robin's stomach looking for the correct location. As soon as Robin winced the cup was up-turned and the 'magic' worms attached themselves, swelling quickly as the excess humours surged into their small bodies.

Half an hour later Robin returned to the forest camp with a smile on his face, he felt good. The dull ache that had plagued him for just over a week was gone and he no longer felt sick or hot. He knew that Much would panic when he saw the blood on his shirt but that was easy to account for, he had come to the aid of a man who had been shot and some of the blood from his wound had leaked onto the outlaw's clothes, nothing abnormal about that.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright, we know that a carriage will be on the forest road at 2pm heading for Nottingham and loaded with taxes from nearby _village near Locksley. _Much, you and Allan conceal yourselves by the oak and ready yourselves, we do no know how heavily guarded the carriage will be, rumour is that it is relying on disguise rather than strength. John, you and Tuck take the opposite side and wait for my signal. I will take out the driver so that the carriage will stop" Robin quickly explained his plan; they only had a few moments to get ready. It was an ambush tactic that they had used many times before, Robin would fire an arrow across the path with a rope attached which would knock the riders from their horses or wagon forcing the carriage to stop, the others would then rush out and take the carriage by force with Robin joining them as soon as he could. His role was key, without the initial surprise and un-saddling of the riders they could not take the wagon, men on horseback were superior to men on the ground no matter how well trained.

Robin settled himself in a tree, concealed from the road but with a perfect view of his target. The others found there positions and waited for the signal to move, already they could hear the thunder of hooves and he rattle of the carriage wheels as the taxes were rushed through the forest toward the Sheriff's greedy hands.

The horses drew closer; from their hiding places the outlaws could now see their prize and the prepared themselves, adjusting the grip on their weapons and planting the feet so as to leap into action as soon as they were needed.

Robin carefully strung his bow and took aim, pulling the string back as far as his muscular right arm would allow. Still the horses raced onwards, whipped into a full gallop by men who knew that the forest road was dangerous.

The carriage loomed into view, coming at full pelt towards the concealed outlaws "Come on, just a little further" Robin whispered to himself as he checked his target and prepared the shoot… The pain caught him by surprise and he fired the arrow wide, his scream of agony masked by the thundering of the carriage as it passed by safely.

"What happened?!" Allen demanded stepping out of the cover and watching the retreating wagon. He threw down his bow angrily, robbed of his prize.

"I saw the arrow fire… do you think Robin missed?" John asked quietly, as he joined the others in the centre of the road.

"Robin Hood doesn't miss!" Much shouted he couldn't believe that any of the group would even think it. Robin was the best archer in Nottingham, in England probably. He paced back and forth, angry and frustrated that his master's plan had failed and that the others were doubting their leader without even talking to him.

"Perhaps we should ask Robin what happened. I am sure there is an excellent reason for the change in plan." Tuck quickly dispelled the tension of his fellow clansmen. Perhaps Robin had aimed badly or fired too soon, perhaps he had decided that the prize was not worth the risk or wanted instead to steel the gold from under the sheriff's nose. It would not be the first time that Robin had chosen the more difficult fight to make a fool of his enemy. The holy man hoped that these were the reasons; however he suspected that the misfire had more to do with Robin's health than his arrogant desire to destroy Vaysey.

The group trekked back towards the tree where Robin had taken aim; Allen and Much still arguing about the reason for the failed robbery. As they neared the large oak they heard a groan of pain and instantly they knew that something was wrong with their friend. Running now the outlaws quickly covered the last few yards and stopped suddenly as they saw Robin lying on the ground, curled up tight and clutching his stomach. The expression on his face was one of pure agony, and he continued to writhe and moan in the dirt oblivious to the audience nearby.

Much darted forward and knelt beside the young man "Robin! Robin what's wrong" he shouted, scared by the thought that his closest friend was some how injured.

"We need to return to camp" Tuck stated slowly, resting his hand on Much's shoulder. It was as he had feared and now it was up to him to save Robin's life.


	4. Chapter 4

Back at the outlaw's camp John carefully laid Robin flat where he continued to moan quietly, the pain bringing tears to his eyes. The young man had been both shot and stabbed many times but compared to the pain he felt now those old wound were nothing more than bee stings.

"Listen to me Robin" Tucked leaned over his distressed friend and looked him in the face. "There is a small pocket within your stomach that is full of bad humours. It needs to come out now before those humours can leak into your body. If they do leak you will die. Do you understand Robin?" the monk knew he had little time but he needed the young Lord's permission to continue, Robin would certainly die if he did nothing but what he was about to do was equally dangerous.

Robin nodded, so the leeches hadn't worked and he had failed his friends as a result. Again the pain splintered through him and he roared in agony.

"I need you to trust me Robin. I am going to make a cut in your side and remove the thing that is causing you pain. Do you trust me?" Robin nodded once more, he would agree to anything just so long as the pain would stop.

Standing up Tuck cleared his throat "I need a knife and needle and some silk, part of that scarf we took from Lady de Winter will do, break it into as long a thread as you can. I also need boiling water and some gauze and thread." The three outlaws quickly ran, getting the stuff needed, if this was a serious as it sounded, well they hoped that God himself would look kindly on them today.

"Much, you are Robin's closest friend. I need you to talk to him, keep him still and calm. This is going to hurt; you may want to find something for him to bite down on. John I need you to hold Robin's feet, he must remain as still as possible. If he will drink it, give him some mead. Allen I need you to assist me." By now Tuck had boiled the knife, needle and thread in water, he had laid out gauze and cleaned a section of Robin's skin on the right hand side.

Feeling gently for the right spot, he blew out a long breath and carefully made a cut through the patient's skin. Robin yelped in agony again biting down hard on the gauze covered stick that Much had forced between his teeth moments earlier. The ex-manservant was forced to put all his weight on the outlaws' shoulders to keep him still and he could hear John growling with effort as he fought to keep Robin's legs still.

"Ok I can see it. Pass me the silk Allen" trying hard not to faint despite the sight of blood Allen passed the thin thread and watched as the holy man deftly inserted it into the wound he had created and looped it around a strange looking object, using only his fingers to guide him, he tied it tightly in two places and gently cut in between pulling the offending appendix from Robin's abdomen. Checking the tie was holding he pulled the skin back together and stitched it with the thicker thread, finally applying a gauze bandage to keep the wound clean. It was up to Robin and God now.

Later as Robin lay sleeping the others gathered around the camp fire. "What was that?" Much wanted to know.

"Something I learned on my travels, in Greece. They believe that the body is composed of sacs which they call pyavov. Roughly translated it means organ. Each sac has a specific job to do which keeps us healthy. Sometimes it was seen that people, especially the young experienced a sharp pain on the right hand side of their body which would ultimately lead to death. Examination of bodies that died from this and those which died from other causes showed one particular sac which seemed larger in those who experience pain in the area mentioned. It was suggested by Hippocrates that removal of this 'appendix' before death could save the persons life. It has only recently been attempted though and there have been as many deaths as survivals."

"Wait Robin could have died because of what you did?" Much interrupted suddenly

"He could have but as you can see, so far, he is fine. If I had done nothing he would have died for sure" Tuck calmly reassured the young man, what he was telling them was totally unheard of in a country where health was still believed to be connected to the balance of humours and the most popular treatment was bleeding. In deed the friar had noticed the tell tale marks from a recent treatment using leeches on Robin's stomach.

"Are you trying to tell me that it is possible to stop people dying by cutting them open?" Allan-a-Dale was incredulous, the smallest wound on the battlefield could lead to almost instant death and yet here was a man telling him that making a wound deliberately could save lives.

"Yes, right now the idea is in it's infancy but I believe one day it will be common practice."

"Sound's like defying god's will to me. He decides whether we live or die, not you!" John spoke grimly, he hated anything new and this seemed suspiciously like black magic to him.

"So you would have let Robin die?" Much rounded on the Scottish man. His anger was uncharacteristic and everyone was taken off guard.

"If it was meant to be then yes I would have let him die!" John stood up, his short fuse burning close to explosion point, how dare this man accuse him of not caring for their friend.

Quickly Allan stepped in between the two men "Hey guys, cool it yeah." He raised his hands and laughed nervously "What's important now is that Robin's alright. Tuck did what he felt was right and it worked so we can get on with planning how to get our loot back from the Sheriff. Yeah"

John snorted and turned away, he still didn't like it but Allan was right, it was done, no amount of shouting or arguing would change what had happened and he was pleased that Robin was alright.

Much attempted to keep up the stern expression but his anger was quickly melting; he'd never been able to stay angry at anyone. Watching John retreat for some alone time he let out a sigh of relief, what would he have done if Allan hadn't stepped in?


	5. Chapter 5

Robin stirred as the morning light filtered through the trees bathing the camp in sunshine, he could hear Much preparing breakfast nearby, what time was it?

He tried to sit up, his side ached and he could feel a thick bandage wrapped around his middle, he grunted quietly.

"Morning" Much appeared almost instantly, the usual happy smile plastered across his mouth "How are you feeling?" he asked adjusting the bedding so that his master could be comfortable.

"What happened?" the leader of the outlaws wanted to know, everything was hazy, he remembered something about a carriage but then nothing.

"Er, you were sick but Tuck made you better. So we can make plans to get the sheriff's…"

"Wait, I was sick" Robin held up his hand for silence.

Much nodded quickly, staring at the floor, he should have known Robin wouldn't just accept that he was better.

"Tuck said he thought you were behaving differently for a few days, and then when you missed the target, you know 'cause you were trying to get the lead rider off his horse to give us a chance to get the gold we wondered what had happened. We found you on the floor writhing in agony and we knew you were sick, Tuck had to cut you to make you better, something about bad humours accumulating and if we had done nothing you would have died."

Robin nodded slowly allowing the information to sink in, he remembered now, standing in the tree, waiting for the perfect opportunity to fire the arrow with the rope attached to dislodge the guard from his horse. The ensuing panic would give the gang chance to gain the upper hand on the soldiers and take the gold but just as he had pulled back the string and taken aim he had again been crippled with pain and had fired wildly into the forest, falling from the tree onto the floor. He remembered shouts, faces blurred by the tears in his eyes and being carried back to camp. He'd overheard Tuck explaining that he needed the other's to trust him. That he needed to treat Robin. He remembered Much's hands on his shoulders, the gag being forced between his lips and the ex-servant telling him everything would be ok. There had been another weight on his legs, from the strength it had to have been John. More pain, something cold against his skin and then he could feel blood running down his side, he had thought he'd been injured, something that had happened on the battlefield, that he was still in the Holy lands fighting for King Richard. He'd felt light-headed then and allowed his eyes to drift shut, in some sort of dream state he'd felt a tugging sensation as if someone were pinching his stomach and pulling upwards. Then he had woken up and Much was there telling him he had been sick.

Robin rubbed the sleep from his eyes and carefully stood up, he felt a twinge of pain as he moved but then just a slight throbbing, nothing he couldn't handle.

"Where are you going?" Much asked, he knew better than to try and keep Robin in bed if he wanted to get up but he still felt concerned that his friend and former master was trying to do too much too soon. He had no idea what Tuck had done last night and yet his gut told him it was something major and that the young man should be resting.

"Tuck saved my life. I think I owe him a thank you" Robin smiled walking towards the main camp where the others were sitting.

"I see you are feeling better Robin" Tuck smiled, pleased to see the young Lord back on his feet."

"Much tells me I have you to thank for that." Robin replied

"No Robin, you have Him to thank for your survival, I am simply an instrument to his desires. Clearly you please him despite your disregard for the laws of the people."

Robin tried to sit on the log but even bending slightly was uncomfortable so he settled against a near-by tree instead, glad to be alive.

A week later and the group were preparing to raid the sheriff's private stores for food, water and gold for the people of Nottingham and the surrounding villages. The wound on Robin's stomach had healed leaving a small pink scar - another one for the -collection – and Tuck was happy that he was fit enough for the mission.

Allan doubled over and groaned; everyone looked up wondering if they would again have to dice with death.

"It's not that!" Allan quickly spoke up "It was that rotten rabbit we had last night, it's given me indigestion"

"That rabbit was not rotten!" Much quickly interjected feeling hurt, he did his best to feed them.

Walking ahead Robin heard the bickering and smiled, everything was truly back to normal.


End file.
